plans change

i had a great post planned for this morning, and then i opened my computer and the awful news of japan's ravaging tsunami came up on my screen. so, i'll just table that post for another day.

i won't lie. i am so afraid of earthquakes. and tsunamis. to which you may say, "way to go, susannah, you live on a massive fault line, right along the coast of northern california." and i would say, "yep- you're right. and it freaks the crap out of me all the time."

little known fact: i think about earthquakes and tsunamis about every other day or so.

sometimes when i'm in bed at night i think to myself, if there was a crazy strong earthquake right now, i wonder if we could get into the girls' room and rescue them? i need to remember where near the bed my shoes are. is everything secured to the wall in their room?   


or maybe matt is gone at work and i am alone with the girls and i imagine an earthquake with him stuck on one side of the tunnel that he drives through to get to work and me stuck in our rubble of a house, crying because our wedding pictures have been destroyed. oh yeah, and our house.

or i worry about an earthquake happening & being without electricity, and no way to charge m's rechargeable implant batteries, and running out of her disposable batteries, and realizing she won't be able to hear us soon. (yes- i have a massive stockpile of batteries, but i'm still afraid that i won't be able to get to them.)

and i kid you not, every day that i drive over the san mateo bridge (which is essentially smack on top of the water) to take m to school, i imagine a tsunami sweeping over our car and me scrambling to rescue my children from their carseats while somehow also opening a window or door so that we don't get stuck in the car. the other bridge scenario does not involve a tsunami, but just a really big earthquake that is so strong that as we drive across, maybe even almost to the shore (which still would not be safe because a huge earthquake has just happened,) breaks the bridge up into little pieces and then tosses my little pitiful car, full of me and my two amazing children, like a kleenex into the water.

as you can see, the thought of a (very likely) bay area earthquake is on my mind. there isn't much that i worry about, but this is one of those things. so as i looked at these heartbreaking photographs this morning, of families just like us -except for halfway around the world-whose lives just changed completely and forever, it hits me somewhere in that soft, raw space in my heart where fear and sadness lives.

praying today for those who have lost something, or everything, in this tragedy.

big sister

i watch m with ruby and think so often about what it must have been like when my little brother johnny was born. jonathan and i are the exact same age distance as m and ruby: 25 months.

susannah & jonathan

it's hard to stop being a big sister. i know it drives my siblings crazy sometimes, and i do work intentionally to not be the big sister anymore, but it's hard when it has been so ingrained for so long. one of the things that is the hardest is to watch my siblings go through pain and loss. for all of my failures and faults as the eldest, i love all three of my younger siblings.

oldest to youngest: me, johnny, becca & aaron

since johnny is 2 years younger than me, i don't really remember life before my brother was born. he has been a part of my life for a long as i can form recollections of childhood.

some of my silliest moments growing up were with my brother. 

my brother's taken a lot of hits since he was a little kid, but sometimes i still see that side of him:

as uncle johnny

or as karaoke king

one thing is true about my brother: he's either on or off- there is no convincing him to be in a good mood if he isn't, and there is no stopping him if he is ridiculously silly. 

jonathan is in the middle of a divorce right now. this wasn't the path he wanted or expected, and so it is hard to see him grieving the loss of something that he thought would last forever. yesterday, after he went to family court, we met for lunch and talked and laughed and snuggled up ruby. it was good just to be with my brother; as unable as either of us are to fast forward this painful season or fix it, we could just hang out, at ease with each other because we have a lifetime of being in each other's space. sometimes siblings make life a whole lot more complicated, but as we shared the afternoon yesterday, i was grateful for our history, for what lies ahead, and for just sitting with my brother.

one year.

this week has been a weird one. 

it has been a week of emotional ping-pong: joy, detachment, loss, amazement, deja vu, grief.

 

monday, matt & my 7th wedding anniversary.

tuesday, my dad's 61st birthday.

and today, which marks one year since the whole world changed for my family. 

last october 16th is the day that my dad walked away from my mom, his four children, and the majority of the people that comprised his world. he chose not to be honest with us about living a second life. 

i do not pretend to understand the angst and buried pain my dad presumably experienced trying to wrestle with his identity, with living two opposing existences, or with lying so much for so long. i can only imagine the internal war that has been waging inside of him for years, and it grieves me to think that he had to resort to deception & betrayal to find some outlet for his battles. i do think that in the year since we confronted my dad in love, he could have chosen to own his failings and the wounds he inflicted with integrity. he hasn't.

often people ask me if i have seen or spoken to my dad lately. 

it feels weird to say no.

i don't tell people all of the reasons why i have chosen to cut off contact- meaning, i don't tell people how bad it really was when everything went down last year. maybe the fact that i haven't seen, spoke, or interacted with my dad in an entire year seems dramatic. 

most people know my dad to be this laughing & outgoing dad/husband figure who publicly raved about his wife and kids. so, to say that i want no contact with him sounds, well, kind of awful. 

it feels weird to recognize that i am estranged from him. we occupy the same geography more or less, as he lives one mile from me, and yet our lives no longer intersect. 

it feels weird to realize that i no longer really have a dad, or at least a relationship with my dad. 

it feels weird that little m only has three grandparents, even though all four- matt's parents and my parents- are living. 

it feels weird that when i caught a glimpse of my dad last saturday in a public place, that my heart fell into the pit of my stomach and i instantly turned and walked in the other direction. 

it feels weird that someone who i once respected is now toxic to me. 

it feels weird that it has been a year since i last looked into my dad's eyes. he looked back at me with such hatred and anger. i will never forget that look; it is seared into my memory. somehow, the look in my dad's eyes seemed more real and true that anything i'd experienced from my dad in a long time.

i try to live the way jesus lived. jesus taught that we are to love our enemies. jesus hung out with the despised: the liars, cheats, whores and destitute, and he loved them. i admit that i am not there yet. honestly, to love my dad like that doesn't feel safe or even possible. i feel like the times i extended grace and love to my dad he just stomped on it. i want to be able love this man in the way of jesus, but right now my heart starts racing and i walk in the other direction. 

for some reason i always remember this sermon my dad preached a few years ago, when he was still a pastor, long before any of this happened. he said that faith was hope standing on tiptoe, as if you are peeking over a fence at something in the distance. you can see it, but it isn't quite in your grasp. so for now, i have hope & faith. faith that someday my dad will no longer be my enemy. that he will find some peace. and rest. and grace. and authenticity.

hope. faith. love.

dear insurance company,

seriously? you are going to deny me?

give me 10 minutes in a room with you and i'd bet i could change your mind.

xoxo,

little m

bad news bears

stupid highmark blue cross blue shield's building, pittsburg, pa

we just got news that our insurance, highmark blue cross blue shield insurance, is denying little m's surgery on friday. when matt called me tonight to tell me i just broke down sobbing. honestly, i feel like we have handled much of this very hard year pretty well, and this felt like a breaking point. i am so, so tired. despite all of the big decisions and constant appointments, i felt like we kind of got into a rhythm on this marathon of hearing loss. then we got hit with the avalanche of everything with my dad, and emotionally i've felt completely leveled. our family is sort of gathering together, huddling up, and figuring out how to move forward with these gaping emotional wounds. 

but at the same time i was thinking, ok, we have m's surgery so soon! this is a good thing in our world! SIX months is so young to have the surgery but our surgeon made it seem as if everything would go through without a hitch, insurance and all. originally i had thought that there was no way she could get implants until 9 or 12 months, so when the surgeon said 6 months, it was such a shift in expectations. it's one of those things where as soon as we found out 6 months, then everyone we would have appointments with would say, "oh, yes. bilateral surgery at six months is SO much better than at a year..." it kind of felt like when you are dating someone and your friends smile and are polite until after you breakup, upon which they all tell you how they really felt all the time. so, as more and more professionals told us that 6 months was so much better, that is what my expectations became.

and now, a big fat no from the insurance company. i feel deflated and exhausted and beaten down. i want to plead with someone and say, "if this was your baby, and your baby was deaf, and could access sound when it was most important, and in a way that would benefit her for the rest of her life, wouldn't you want that?" we don't get this time back, we can't rewind and get these six months again. this may sound like no big deal, but it is in our world.

i have no problems fighting for this. but i am so tired. and just ready for something to be easy and effortless and battle-free.

and it makes me so mad that if we had the money lying around to pay out of pocket for this surgery, that we would be at her pre-op appointments thursday morning, and in surgery on halloween. that seems so unfair.

thursday, october 16th, 1:30 in the afternoon

Breaking 

Did I believe I had a clear mind?

It was like the water of a river

flowing shallow over the ice. And now

that the rising water has broken

the ice, I see that what I thought

was the light is part of the dark.

-Wendell Berry